


Are You My Mother?

by Viva_Raine



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Also he's been orphaned like 4 times, Angst, Crying, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Sibling Bonding, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Vomiting, Whump, Why does the universe hate our Spider Baby, kind of, peter misses his dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viva_Raine/pseuds/Viva_Raine
Summary: When a broken Peter Parker's world is shattered and one of his greatest fears realized, he has no one to safely flee to but his Iron Family, who welcome him lovingly with open arms - although plenty of grief, terror and trauma come with him. Featuring Mama Pepper, little sister Morgan, protective Happy and a sick, scared Peter Parker who desperately needs a hug.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spider-Man: Far From Home spoilers, but honestly if you haven't seen the movie yet what are you doing here go watch it :P 
> 
> This is my first time using this site so apologies if I haven't totally gotten it down yet :) 
> 
> Also posted on ff.net.

Living in the woods twenty minutes away from most civilization, alone with her family and a hundred million security protocols, Pepper Potts didn't usually feel the need to follow the news all that closely. For years, Tony hadn't been able to handle it - watching the nonstop coverage of a broken world trying to put itself back together without all the pieces. He couldn't stand watching gang after gang pop up from the alleys, robbing unguarded banks and kidnapping parentless children. He couldn't bear to watch so many people in pain, while promising himself he'd never play superhero again. The last time he'd tried that, he'd gotten nearly everyone he loved killed. He couldn't let it happen again.

It became a habit, to turn the advanced, Stark tech television on and immediately switch the channel to a history show or a sports competition, and later to children's shows as their daughter grew up. Even still, the evidence was everywhere. Shows suddenly ended in the middle of their climaxes, and series with incredible potential were nipped in the bud for future generations to discover later on and wonder why these ancient creations never reached their end.

And now, after everyone was back, thrown into a chaotic world five years in the future, in exchange for her husband Tony Stark, she couldn't watch the news without dissolving unto uncontrollable tears or irresistible anger. She couldn't stand to see the millions of tributes all over the world to her husband who had changed the lives of more people than he'd ever know. In every city, every town, murals of his face and his helmet were splashed up onto walls so he'd never be forgotten and candles flickered day and night in front of them, lighting them up. Roses were shipped to every location he'd ever owned, and Pepper was infinitely glad no one knew where they lived. She didn't think she'd survive the constant reminder that her husband was never coming back without destroying the fragile grip she had on a normal life. And she couldn't do that to Morgan, her daughter - their daughter. So for her sake, she left the television off, unless it was a cold or rainy day and there was no other way to get the four-year-old out of her way.

So naturally, when Happy called her, frantic and panicking, she was the last to know what was going on. She'd been aware - by means of fairly regular video calls between Morgan and Peter - that the latter was going on a school trip to Europe, and that he had a crush on some girl in his class that he was trying to work up the courage to ask out (Morgan's enthusiastic encouragement of, "Don't worry, Petey, everyone likes you!" had certainly helped) but beyond that, she hadn't heard much. He'd texted her when their plane had landed, and sent her a quick picture of him in London to show Morgan, but that was it. Until Happy had called, she'd been under the impression that he'd enjoyed a peacefully uneventful vacation.

Although considering that it was Peter Parker and his fate in question, she probably should have known that _something_ was bound to go wrong. She supposed it was too much to ask that the worst thing that happened would be that the girl didn't like him back, instead of being that he'd have to fight some psychotic villain who pretended to be a mentor before throwing him in front of a bullet train and threatening to kill his friends. It was disturbing, frightening, to be sure - who wanted their sort-of-son to get hit by trains and betrayed by mentors? - but it was Peter, and he would bounce back after some medical care and a couple heart-to-hearts. That was how he worked.

But when Happy, sounding close to tears himself, relayed the information that Peter's sixteen-year-old Spider-Man identity had been revealed to the entire world, Pepper felt her own world shatter a bit. That was Peter's most closely guarded secret; his greatest fear was villains targeting those he loved. Everyone who knew him was aware that that would bring him to his knees faster than any bullet ever could. She should have wondered if she was in danger; she should have been terrified that her four-year-old daughter was now a potential target for a million nightmare-worthy villains, but all she could bring herself to think was, _Peter must be terrified._

"Bring him here," she whispered, so as not to disturb Morgan who was playing beside her, unsure as to whether it was a command or a question. She supposed a command, because she wasn't in the mood to negotiate. Her surrogate son was scared and in pain, and if she wasn't going to do everything in her power to comfort him, then nobody would. He couldn't turn to his aunt, his publicly listed primary guardian; he couldn't turn to MJ or Ned, of whom pictures of them and Peter were spread across the internet for anyone to find, and he certainly couldn't ride this out alone. "Non-negotiable. I'll have his room ready in an hour." Technically, it was the guest bedroom, but they all knew who Tony had really had in mind when he'd decorated it with red and blue bedding that were a bit too colorful for any regular guest room.

Happy didn't argue, to her infinite relief. "I'll have him there in two."

Shaking slightly, Pepper hung up and turned to Morgan, in a tone with so little enthusiasm that her daughter frowned. "Surprise, sweetheart. Peter's coming over."

* * *

In her stress-induced frenzy, it took exactly one hour, seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds for Peter's room to be ready, complete with a new Star Wars lego set and a simple but well-furnished wardrobe to greet him because she seriously doubted that Happy was going to swing by Peter's apartment before flying him on a private jet to a small, nearby landing strip. Not only would this shave time off of their ETA, but it would save them from going through security and risking being recognized. It had crossed Pepper's mind, once or twice, that if Peter was convicted of murder, she'd likely be arrested for hiding a criminal. She couldn't find it in her to particularly care. Morgan had been more hindering than helpful, asking a million questions and bouncing excitedly in anticipation for the arrival of her "big brother", although she seemed to have picked up on her mother's somber mood and had quietly swung her legs from the child seat in the front of the shopping cart instead of begging to be let down, for which Pepper was eternally grateful.

Happy updated her regularly, whenever their arrival time changed even by a minute, and she only grew more concerned as she heard the sounds of stifled sobs coming from behind him, until the fourth time he called and there was silence besides for Happy's low tone. She figured Peter had finally cried himself to sleep, and while it was a miserable way to succumb to rest, it was a way just the same and heaven knows he needed the sleep more than anything.

Finally, when their ETA was only ten minutes away, she sat Morgan down on their comfortable yet well-worn sofa, faded from five years of stolen naps and Morgan's superhero games, and tried to explain to her daughter that Peter might not be in the best of moods. Morgan was incredibly sensitive and intuitive for someone so young, but how does one explain to a four-year-old that her hero - her brother - was terrified not only for his life, but for the lives of everyone he loved, that he'd been hit by a bullet train going full speed, that he'd admired yet another mentor figure who had again left him alone to wonder what was wrong with him…there was no way to put that into words a child would understand.

"Peter's not really feeling so good, baby," she compromised, hoping that by using analogies her daughter understood, she might grasp a small picture of what he was really going through.

Wide-eyed and lovingly concerned, Morgan gasped slightly. "Like he's go'a tummy ache?"

"A really bad one. And he's very sad because people were mean to him, so you'll have to be extra nice, okay? He might need some time to himself when he gets here, alright, sweetie?"

Morgan nodded sincerely, before her eyebrows scrunched angrily in the fiercest expression a child could pull off. "Whoe'ers mean'a Peter I'm gonna fight 'em and make 'em go 'way fore'er." It was an adorable statement, only intensified by the fact that Pepper had no doubt that her daughter meant every word. Given the opportunity, Morgan would gladly don her Iron Man gloves Tony had made for her 3rd birthday and her Party City Spider-Man mask and kick and punch until any villains that came their way left Peter and his viciously protective little sister alone.

"I'm sure you will, sweetheart." Pepper wondered if her daughter could tell how distracted and scared she really was. She was Tony's daughter too, after all, and he'd always been able to tell when something was bothering her, whether he'd admitted to knowing or not. In more ways than she could count, Morgan was a perfect copy of Tony - her dark brown eyes, her radiant smile, her brilliance in all things mechanic, her intuitive nature and her habit of picking up strays (whether injured animals or lonely friends) and caring for them until she practically adopted them.

The latter was a particularly relevant trait of her husband, considering that it was the reason she had not one child but two - not to mention another son of his, Harley Keener, whom she'd met briefly at the funeral. She hadn't exactly been the mood to adopt another child at the moment, and she wished wholeheartedly to be introduced to him again, although at the moment, two kids was quite enough. One who never quieted, who asked for everything she wanted, who was talkative, bold, secure - and her opposite, her shy, self-deprecating brother who waited until the last second to voice his needs, who suffered in silence, who clung to affection like it was his last lifeline to the world, all the while being a bright sunshine to everyone around him.

In her grief-stricken state after her husband's sudden death, they had been the only bright points in her life, and if it hadn't been for them, she didn't know where she'd be. It wasn't a thought she liked to entertain very often. When the adults were stifling in their genuine yet overused apologies, and agencies wanted funeral plans, and her emotionally wrecked mind kept her awake at night, her only comfort was her equally nightmare-riddled children, who huddled with her on the porch at four in the morning drinking hot chocolate and hugging each other as they laughed, and cried, and reminisced over the ways Tony Stark had changed their life.

And now, not too much later, it was time to return the favor, time to comfort her broken son. They'd be arriving in merely four minutes, and while Morgan was still bouncing in excitement despite her earlier warning, Pepper felt the dread slowly curdling in her stomach, swirling queasily as the seconds ticked by. She should have known they would be late, but when two minutes extra had passed, she couldn't help the tight feeling deep in her chest that desperately hoped they were okay; when the latch on their front door turned a few seconds later, the feeling hardly dissolved.

The large wooden door creaked open, and Peter stumbled in first, supported by Happy who stood behind him. Tear tracks were smeared across his face, marred by the mask he'd hid behind after the revelation, although it was pointless because everyone knew who Spider-Man was anyway, and even Happy's eyes had a red-rimmed look. Physically, Peter looked mostly fine, his healing factor having already mostly taken care of the cuts and scrapes from the former fights, but his eyes were hollow and glassy, his breath shaking slightly every time he inhaled.

Visibly, he fought back the sobs locked in his chest as he staggered forward, mostly accidentally ignoring Morgan's repeated questions of concern as he collapsed into Pepper's arms. He loved Morgan, he really did, more than anything, but she was his hero, and he couldn't live up to that right now. He needed someone else to be his hero; he needed to be held and comforted like he was a child again. And Pepper did just that.

Enveloping Peter in her arms, she held him against her like she'd done for Tony whenever he broke down; like she did for Morgan after a horrible nightmare that kept her up for hours. She felt his tears dampen her shoulder, and she only held him tighter as sobs wracked his small frame and he trembled in her arms. His breath hitched over and over again, and he cried until he collapsed into a coughing fit.

"Mom," he whispered, the word sounding so natural on his tongue, and she kissed his forehead gently before he had a chance to realize what he'd said.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got you. Everything's going to be okay."

The words only served to send him further into his terrified hysterics, and he clung to Pepper with all of his heart.

It took much longer than anyone would have liked to calm Peter down the point where he could actually breathe, and by then he was so exhausted that he passed out on that same, well-worn sofa, still hiccuping harshly in his sleep as a side-effect of his tears. He shivered slightly, curled up against himself, and they wasted no time in draping a blanket over his shoulders - the same one Tony had wrapped around himself and Pepper and Morgan the last time they'd all gathered to have a movie night together. It was too big to go in the wash, so there were still oil stains from the popcorn splattered on the blanket and it still carried Tony's unmistakable scent. Peter unconsciously nuzzled himself against it, relaxing gradually underneath it.

While Happy kept watch over their sleeping spider-child, Pepper climbed up the steps to find Morgan; she'd seen Peter cry before but this level of sobbing seemed to have frightened her, and sure enough, Pepper found her curled in the corner of her room with her pink and green stuffed rabbit, rubbing the seam of the rabbit's hand against her upper lip. It was another comforting habit she'd picked up, and Pepper figured it was better than sucking her thumb, so she didn't necessarily discourage it in any way.

"Hi sweetheart," she greeted, opening the door just wide enough to get through, aware that closed doors made her daughter feel safer. "You okay?"

Morgan shrugged, her gaze still steadily focused on the little rip in the rabbit's side and her unused hand fingering the edge of her sweatshirt. Pepper was almost certain that that would be the only response she got, when the four-year-old mumbled, "I wan' the bad guys to die."

And what could Pepper say to that? She couldn't invalidate her daughter's justified anger, but she couldn't endorse such extreme wishes. She certainly couldn't admit that the same thought had crossed her mind in the maternal blaze of righteous fury that had overwhelmed her as she'd held her broken son. "How about we focus on helping Pete instead, what do you think of that, huh?"

Again, the child shrugged, waiting at least forty seconds before whispering. "It scares me."

Pepper was fairly sure she knew what she was referring to, and she sat herself on the edge of her daughter's bed, gesturing for her to come sit on her lap. "What does?" Morgan crawled onto her mother's lap, resting her head on her shoulder.

"Pete crying." Two word answers were better than none, Pepper supposed.

"But you've seen him cry before, remember?"

"'S diff'rent now." Pepper couldn't really disagree. "He's a lot more scared this time. 'S he scared o' the bad guys?"

A deep, shaky sigh escaped Pepper's lungs, and she closed her eyes for a moment to reign in her overwhelmingly maternal emotions. "I don't know, baby," she lied, because sometimes she had to do what she had to do in order to keep her children safe.

"Is he gonna be 'kay?" Those chocolate brown eyes that were so much like Tony's stared up at her, wide and trusting.

"Of course, baby," she lied again. The truth was she had no idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit of a shorter chapter, I hope you enjoy anyways :D

There were a lot of unpleasant ways to wake up, and Peter Parker had experienced plenty of them. But waking up sweating yet shivering underneath a stained, navy-blue blanket that smelled like Tony's cologne, with a pounding headache, burning eyes and an odd, stiff feeling to his face was something he hadn't quite gotten used to yet.

Instinctively, he scanned the room for threats, trusting the constant twinge of his stomach that told him there was something wrong, before remembering the events of the last few hours and doing his best not to panic again. "Pepper?" he croaked, his cheeks burning as his brain chose that moment to remind him that the term "mom" had slipped out of his mouth earlier in his distress.

It was only seconds before the red-haired woman rushed into the room, followed by Happy and Morgan close on her heels. Morgan looked a bit worse than she had when he'd walked in and he hoped against everything that he hadn't scared her, although the timid look in her eyes made him suspect otherwise. _Great job, Parker, scaring your little sister by crying like a baby. Brilliant move._

Maybe it was just a random stroke of chance, or maybe Morgan picked up on his self-deprecating thoughts, but the child launched herself onto him, hugging him tightly. "Hi Petey," she said, in a strange tone between an ecstatic exclamation and a hushed whisper.

When a slight grimace fell on Peter's face, Pepper stepped forward to untangle Morgan from her brother. "How are you feeling, bud?"

In the exact same manner as Morgan, Peter shrugged, and for the first time Pepper realized they had both gotten it from Tony. The knowledge threatened to drown her for a moment; it would be so easy to let go of her anchors and be swept away by nostalgic grief. But her anchors needed her as much as she needed them, so she turned to the one who was in the most pain and ruffled his hair gently.

"I, um, I'm okay." His voice was small, like he was embarrassed even to admit that he was fine. But then, there was a likely chance that the shame stemmed from his intense hatred of lying, which made him so awful at it.

Happy scoffed. "Don't give me that-" Pepper glared between him and Morgan, and he amended quickly, "...crap, Parker." His voice softened. "We're here to help, Pete."

For the first time since the news had come out that morning, Peter finally dared to take stock of how he actually felt. Due to a cross between lack of time and lack of courage, he'd been compartmentalizing everything up until now. There hadn't been any time to analyze himself when he'd been running through abandoned alleys trying to avoid the public, or when he'd frantically called Happy and asked to be picked up, or when he'd been fighting not to throw up on the plane as a mix of hysterical sobs and stormy turbulence unsettled his stomach. Right now he seemed to be experiencing all of those feelings rolled into one.

"Um," he began rather eloquently, and sensing his distress, Pepper helped him sit up and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Uh... like emotionally? Not, not great. I-I can't really like, um, like explain it but, I'm scared? A lot? Because like, like… I don't, I don't know." He took a deep shaky breath, scrubbing one hand across his eyes and resting it in front of his mouth for a second before continuing. "And physically, uh…" A humorless chuckle escaped him that sounded more self-deprecating and sarcastic than anything else. "Not great either. My, my head hurts and, and, and my stomach is kinda upset and I think, I think I have a fever."

Pepper instantly brushed her lips against his forehead, gauging his temperature. It wasn't incredibly warm, although she remembered Tony telling her one time that he ran cold, because of the spider DNA. It had been a long, sleepless night after a long, sleepless day a couple weeks after Tony had returned from space, and in a hysterical rant long after midnight, he'd admitted how angry it made him, that Peter had always hesitated to confide in him when he wasn't feeling his best. He'd yelled and cried and recounted several times when the kid had hidden an injury, or denied feeling sick until the moment he'd puked, or played down a fever before Tony had figured out that his natural body temperature was colder than average. It had been a defining moment in Tony's grieving process, and it wasn't something Pepper was likely to forget any time soon. She only wished Tony were here, to see how readily their son accepted their help now, how deeply he trusted them.

"You're a little warm. Is there any medicine that works?" She knew from experience that regular fever reducer would do about as much for his advanced metabolism as infant's Tylenol would do for her.

Peter was silent for a good thirty seconds before he mumbled, "Tony had some." _Five years ago._ After an unfortunate experience that involved ineffective anesthesia and surgery, Tony had worked tirelessly to perfect a pain reliever that would make a dent in his metabolism, holing up in the lab for days until he'd emerged victoriously with a formula that had been tested on Steve Rogers and was sure to work on Peter. In true Tony Stark fashion, the formula was flawless. But now, five years later, he was relatively sure there wasn't any more around.

Humming slightly, Pepper absently ran her hand through Peter's unruly, sleep-tousled curls. "I'm sorry, Peter. Is there anything we can do to make you feel better?"

Morgan bounced excitedly. "D'you wanna juice pop?"

Peter shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face. "No thanks, Morg. I'm good for now." He turned his attention back to Pepper, where he asked somewhat sheepishly, "Can, can I have like a, a ginger ale, or, or something?"

She agreed instantly, a bit worried. It was common knowledge to anyone who knew Peter Parker that if he actually asked for help, he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. "Of course. Is that all?"

"Yeah, think so." He smiled as Morgan climbed up next to him on the sofa and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Pep," he mumbled as Happy turned on Moana for Morgan's sake.

Ruffling his hair one more time before turning towards the kitchen to fetch a soda can from the refrigerator, Pepper offered him a gentle smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course, Pete."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very slight vomit warning but it's basically just a mention, nothing graphic whatsoever, so everyone should be fine :)

Watching Peter as he curled up on the couch with Morgan and tentatively placed one hand on his stomach, Pepper had desperately hoped that these were just the symptoms of his emotional whiplash and that he wasn't actually coming down with something, because she didn't know if she could stand to see him in any more pain than he was already in. It was hard enough to see him like this - slightly feverish and with a headache yet braving Morgan's constant chatter just the same, while looking distinctly queasy and uncomfortable - she didn't want to have to handle him like this for more than a day, not because it annoyed her but because it hurt to see her son in pain.

But of course, as luck would have it, by the time she gently tucked him into the "guest" bed that night, he was still feeling unwell, so she piled up an extra blanket over the red and blue one and placed a mixing bowl on the bed beside him in case his nausea worsened overnight. Kissing his forehead gently, she wished him goodnight and left the door open a crack. Whether it was because Peter needed to know there was an escape route available in order to relax or because Pepper wanted to know for certain that she would hear him if he called for her - well, neither of them were really certain.

Moments later, having put Morgan to sleep at least an hour before, Pepper collapsed onto her bed, too exhausted to even pull the blankets to cover her. It was a king-sized bed ("Only the best for my queen," Tony had said when he'd bought it) but she still curled on her side as if her husband was still there to teasingly beg her to come closer, to complain with a smile and a kiss every time he woke up with stiff joints that it was her fault for pushing her to the side, only for her to tease back that he was just getting old. Now, instead of her husband's warm presence and good-natured smile and gentle good morning kisses, she woke up sometimes to a cold, empty bed, and sometimes to her little daughter sprawled out on Tony's side with tear tracks staining her little face.

Needless to say, she didn't get much sleep, and she'd learned to live like that, so when her door creaked open at four in the morning and the trembling figure of Peter Parker stumbled in, he wasn't waking her up from much. She immediately stood, her heart clenching painfully at the sound of his little whimpers that he tried so hard to hide. Tripping over random objects she hadn't even known existed until she stubbed her toe on them, Pepper made her way to the light switch and slid the dimmer up the slightest bit, allowing a bit of a warm glow to fill the room.

"Oh, Peter, baby." The sixteen-year-old was visibly shaking, both arms wrapped around his stomach tightly, the light reflecting off the tear on his face. His hair was unruly and a few strands had fallen down over his face, and his breathing was audibly uneven.

"What happened, bud?"

He stood there silently, shivering in the middle of the room, so Pepper gently guided him to sit on the edge of her bed, and repeated the question.

"I, um, I had a, a nightmare, and then I, I woke up and my, stomach was, was hurting and I felt sick but I, but I wanted you so, so, so I came h-here." She couldn't tell if he was stuttering because he was crying, or if it was lingering fear from the nightmare, or if it was just an effect that nausea had on the poor boy. As if he needed any other reason to be miserable. "I'm, I'm sorry, Pepper."

She wrapped her arms around him awkwardly, unsure as to whether the dampness of his shirt was sweat from his nightmare or if he'd thrown up and missed the bowl slightly. She tried not to touch it too much, more because she knew it would make him uncomfortable than because it bothered her. Between Tony and Morgan, she'd outgrown any squeamishness she might had previously had. "It's okay, Peter. I promise. It's totally fine." She held him there for a few moments to calm him down before asking, "Do you need a new blanket?"

Immediately he shook his head adamantly. "No, no, no. I didn't - I didn't actually throw up on, on the bed. Or, or like at, all really yet." He gestured to his shirt vaguely, trying to hide his embarrassment as best he could. "Just, just like a, a little."

A sudden sense of urgency flooded Pepper at the knowledge that he hadn't actually gotten sick yet; she was relatively comfortable with dealing with it but she would rather not have Peter puke on her bedroom carpet if it could be helped. That was a lot harder to replace than washable bedding. " Do you think you're going to?"

He shrugged, and then nodded. In her experience avoiding talking was a bad sign.

"What do you think of heading to the bathroom, Pete?"

He complied instantly, clumsily getting to his feet and stumbling towards the master bathroom, collapsing onto the tile floor when he got there. Pepper slid down to sit next to him, rubbing his back gently.. The sight reminded her way too much of the countless nights she'd spent with Tony, as he hunched over just like this, whether it was from food poisoning as he ate whatever random junk he could find before crawling back into the lab, or from hangovers that occurred much too often in earlier days, or from random bugs that his weakened, unexposed immune system managed to pick up everywhere. Tears stung her eyes at the thought that something she'd once suffered through could be something she'd give anything to have back.

 _Focus on Peter,_ she scolded herself, _Reminiscing over Tony won't bring him back, and it won't make Peter better._ So she used her other hand to brush the curls out off his sweaty forehead before wetting a small washcloth and placing it on the back of his neck. "Want me to get Happy?" she asked, aware that on some subconscious level, Peter would never stop searching for a father, and at least temporarily had found one in the chauffer. He was fairly good at the indifferent, annoyed facade, but Starks had a way of seeing beyond those, and Happy was now as much a part of the family as Peter was.

"N-no," Peter stuttered. "He, he deserves a good, a good night's rest."

 _So do you,_ she wanted to argue, but clearly Peter wasn't in any condition to have a debate about his well being. She was pretty sure the only reason she hadn't been kicked out already was because he knew she wouldn't be able to sleep while he was sick and alone. Humming in acknowledgement, she continued to card her fingers through his hair as he gagged slightly.

"You sure you're gonna be sick?" she finally asked, after they'd sat there for a good twelve minutes.

"No, not, not completely. But it hurts."

"Yeah, I know, bud. Is there anything I can do?"

Shrugging, he leaned against Pepper tiredly. "I don't, I don't know. I wanna go to bed. I'm thirsty."

And as much as she knew Peter would try to refuse, she couldn't ignore that. Years of experience with Tony had taught her that dehydration was no joke. After the time he'd literally passed out in front of her from lack of electrolytes, she'd been an adamant water advocate. Peter's case was no exception.

"Hold on, Pete, let me get you some water." He moaned slightly in response, and her heart clenched at the sound, but she couldn't let him harm himself further just to save him some mild discomfort. "I know, but this is non-negotiable, baby."

Hardly two minutes later, she returned with a pink and orange straw cup in her hand, filled with lukewarm water so as not to upset his stomach further, and placed it on the floor beside him.

He laughed slightly. "Don't you think I'm a little old for sippy cups?"

It was an innocent, good-natured question, but it sent Pepper's thoughts down a road she'd been avoiding since the day Peter had collapsed against her at Tony's death crying hysterically. There was no doubt that she saw Peter as her son, and had since the moment she'd first met him, back when Tony was still Iron Man and she'd believed he was actually just an intern of her fiance's. Here she was, holding him as he cried, comforting him when he was sick, fetching him water in Morgan's cups - but there was no denying the truth that she'd missed so much of his life. Subconsciously, she tried to hide it, to ignore it - in the way she'd tucked him in like he was a small child, how she kept calling him "baby" despite the fact that he was sixteen. But it still hurt, in the deepest maternal way, to know that she hadn't been there when Peter had needed her the most.

When his real parents had died, when his uncle had died, when he'd had a building dropped on him by his girlfriend's dad, when Tony had recruited him to fight in his miniature civil war…. There were so many moments she'd missed. She'd never gotten to witness Peter participate in his first sports game, or find his first favorite movie, or babble his first words, or have his first crush, or live through his first day of high school, or have his first sleepover… they were unreplicatable moments of his life that she'd never be there for. And in the end, he was right. He _was_ much too old for sippy cups.

"Sorry, Peter. It's either this or an open glass."

"'S okay," he mumbled, taking a tentative sip from it and swallowing convulsively immediately afterwards. "Thanks, Pepper."

She rubbed his shoulder affectionately with a warm smile. "Gotta keep you hydrated, bud."

"No, l-like, for everything. For, for, for taking care of me and all."

A rush of loving protectiveness flooded her so quickly she nearly drowned in the urge to scoop Peter against her chest and hold him like that forever. Away from all the villains threatening to kill his friends and away from the grief of losing his father figure and away from the anxiety that gripped her son's chest so tightly he was afraid to ask for love.

Instead, she placed a gentle kiss against his hair and smiled. "Anytime, bud."

* * *

Two hours, three times throwing up and an innumerable amount of tears later, Peter finally felt well enough to leave the bathroom. Apparently his body had other ideas, because he only made it as far as Pepper's bed before he collapsed onto it and while she was sure that Peter would wake up unnecessarily mortified and embarrassed, Pepper had no particular objection to him sleeping there. It was like a taste of what she could have had, a brief fantasy of what it would have been like to have a small Peter climb into her bed when he couldn't sleep; it was definitely not the perfect circumstance to share such an experience, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. And there was no way she was going to make a sixteen-year-old kid sleep alone in a mostly unfamiliar bedroom, with only his nightmares and his nausea to keep him company, even if he had been able to make it that far.

For his sake, she pretended not to see the tears that made their way down his face as he inhaled Tony's smell that was so deeply embedded in his side of the bed, and she didn't say anything when he clutched at the sheets a little tighter than necessary. She didn't mention the fact that no one had really slept there since Tony had died, and she didn't let herself cry when Peter whimpered quietly, facing the other way so that she couldn't see his face.

Finally, he rolled over, his eyes glassy and his voice thick with emotion. "This was Mr. Stark's side, wasn't it." His tone didn't really make it a question, although perhaps it was just the sobs he was trying to hold back.

Tears burned her eyes again, matching the painfully hot sensation in her throat that choked her words. "Yeah. It was."

That was all it took for Peter to dissolve into sobs again, although this time they were not the sobs of a hysterically frightened superhero, but of an orphaned child who was only now realizing that his father was gone forever. He buried his face in the blanket that smelled like Tony, and let his tears soak into it, unconsciously inching closer and closer to Pepper until he was practically in her arms.

Finally, Peter took a shaky deep breath, and whispered, "He called me his son, once."

Pepper waited for him to continue, to elaborate or make a point, but he didn't. That was all he'd wanted to say. Perhaps he was seeking affirmation, or encouragement. Perhaps he was simply asking Pepper's permission to be her dead husband's son. "He did. He told me you were his son, too." She visibly watched Peter fight the tears again. "He loved you a ton, you know."

With her hand on his side, she could feel his breath hitch within him. "Yeah. I, I know. I loved him a, a lot t-too. I wan-wanted him to be, to be my dad."

She really had no appropriate response to that; no way to convey how much Tony had felt that Peter was son. No matter how hard she tried, she could never express how deeply he was loved by both Tony and herself. There weren't enough words to say that she would do anything, _anything,_ for him, or that he could come to her with whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Brushing his cheek lightly with her finger, she whispered, "I love you too, Peter." She realized she'd never told him before, and that thought scared her more than anything - the idea that she could love someone as much as she did Peter and never have let them know.

"Really?" The fact that he seemed so surprised, so incredulous, only hurt even more.

"Of course, bud. I love you as my son just as much as Tony did."

And that broke him - the tears started again before he could fight them back and if she was being completely honest, Pepper couldn't deny that she'd shed a few herself, watching Peter react this way to being told he was loved.

"You, you do?" It was such an innocent question, so unsure, so hesitant. As if he was afraid to be loved - and if he was, she didn't blame him. As if he didn't deserve to be loved - and if he thought that, she would do everything in her power to erase the belief from his heart.

"Of course," she repeated, as she would as many times as he asked, and then more.

"So does that, does that," he chuckled tearfully, a joyful sound painted with a choked air. "Does that make you my, my, my mom?" It was something he'd wanted all his life - and as much as Aunt May had tried to fill the role, she'd never fully succeeded. She was as much of a mother figure as he'd ever gotten, but there was still something that held him back, something about her that would always be his aunt. But no sixteen-year-old boy survives without a mother, so he hopefully, tearfully, stared at her and breathlessly waited for her answer.

Trying to hide how elated she really was, how she'd wanted this more than anything, she took a deep breath and met Peter's wide, hopeful gaze, and laughed gently, a warm, motherly sound. "If you want it to."

There was a moment of silence in which Peter breathed shakily, evidently trying to process what he'd heard. Pepper didn't take her gaze off of him, watching the just dawning sunlight dance across his features. He was so mature, so strong, so capable, that she often forgot how young he really was. How loving, how affection-starved. She watched the dim light flicker over his blinking, chocolate brown eyes, his childish nose, the way he was pressing his lips together slightly, the way he did when he was fighting an outburst of emotion-fueled words.

Eventually, those lips opened slightly and curved into a smile, as he curled up a bit more to get as close as he could to her, while they both fell asleep in the early hours of dawn. "Good morning, mom," he whispered, his eyes closed. "Love you."

Pepper wrapped her arms around her son, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a smile almost as wide as Peter's dancing on her face. "Good morning, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, folks! Let me know what you thought! :D


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